


stolen songbird

by dandelionslute



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Geralt Saves the Day, M/M, Whump!Jaskier, cw blood, cw implied noncon, cw violence, hurt!Jaskier, take care of yourselves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:08:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23065978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dandelionslute/pseuds/dandelionslute
Summary: “He’s not coming,” the man laughs wickedly in Jaskier’s ear, and it makes him feel sick. Metal cuffs dig into his wrists where they’re held above his head, and his shoulder joints ache. Everything aches.His head hangs in defeat but the man takes him by the chin, pulling his head upright and turning it to the side, pressing Jaskier’s cheek into cold brick. “Maybe you are useless to me after all,” he murmurs, pressing his nose into Jaskier’s throat. “But you’re so fun to play with.”
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 11
Kudos: 710





	stolen songbird

**Author's Note:**

> Request: Maybe some kidnapped!Jaskier? Maybe by someone with beef against Geralt, and is trying to lure him somewhere to kill him, but Geralt gets the ransom note a bit late, and thinks that Jaskier had left him like he thought the bard eventually would, but he gets the note finally and the sorry person who kidnapped Jaskier has hell to pay for hurting his bard? Bonus points if Jaskier gets whumped a little, I'm just a big fan of Geralt coming to save him and I love your writing 💜

Honestly, he’d been expecting it. He wasn’t sure _when_ the bard would grow tired of him, with his moods and his monster hunting and his being-covered-in-blood-and-guts-all-the-goddamn-time, but he knew it would happen. It was _bound_ to happen.

So when he wakes up one morning and Jaskier is gone, he’s not surprised. He thinks maybe Jaskier has just gone searching for some food - but his boots and his lute and his bag are all gone, so Geralt assumes, he probably is too. _Figures_ , he thinks to himself, scowling as he tugs on his own boots.

He stays in town for a few days, hopeful that he might find Jaskier gallivanting around somewhere, too caught up in writing poetry or chasing a girl, but when he asks around the market for any information, he leaves with none.

He returns to the inn with the intention of grabbing his pack and heading on his way. He’s a few feet through the door when the barkeep calls out - _hey witcher!_ l _etter for you_ \- and Geralt stops in his track because _a letter? For him?_

He all but snatches it from the barkeeps hand and unfolds it, his eyes darting across the page before snapping upwards with absolute panic in them. “When did this come?”

“Three days past, four, maybe,” the barkeep replies casually, flicking his towel over his shoulder and putting his hands on his hips. 

“And you didn’t think to _bring it to my room?”_ Geralt growls at the man, reaching across the bar and grabbing a fistful of his shirt, dragging him across the counter and snarling in his face. He’s furious, terrified, panicked, but he lets the man go because he doesn’t have time for this - in any other situation, he’d beat him bloody, human or not - but instead he throws the man aside and all but runs back to his room, the note falling gently to the counter.

 _Got your songbird,_  
better come find him,   
or I start pulling feathers.

-

 _Fuck, fuck, FUCK._ Geralt’s mind races, thinking of people, places, humans, monsters. Where the fuck was Jaskier - who had him? _Okay, they had to be somewhat human - someone wrote that note. Who had he pissed off lately?_

 _Songbird. Feathers._ Geralt’s mind fucking races as he tries to piece together coherent thoughts. _Songbird. Songbird!_ Geralt stops in his tracks. It had been a few weeks ago, three, even four, but someone had called Jaskier that not long back.

_Fuck._

Geralt runs. 

\- 

“He’s not coming,” the man laughs wickedly in Jaskier’s ear, and it makes him feel sick. Metal cuffs dig into his wrists where they’re held above his head, and his shoulder joints ache . Everything aches. His head hangs in defeat but the man takes him by the chin, pulling his head upright and turning it to the side, pressing Jaskier’s cheek into cold brick. “Maybe you are useless to me after all,” he murmurs, pressing his nose into Jaskier’s throat. “But you’re so _fun_ to play with.”

-

It takes Geralt two days, Roach galloping as fast as she can, only stopping for short breaks for her sake, to reach the lair. They’d been here weeks ago, Jaskier doing his best to fend off a young vampire with the sword Geralt had given him, while the Witcher took care of the rest, understandably. But one had got away - abandoned the coven when he realised he was outnumbered, but not before treating them to some colourful language about the Witcher and his Songbird.

He dismounts Roach in a fairly wooded area, a fair distance back from the lair. “You run if they come for you,” he tells her, patting her neck before stalking towards the entrance. He uncorks a potion and swallows it down.

-

The man tears his eyes away from the blood dripping down Jaskier’s collarbone and turns to the door. His lips twist into a demented smile and he turns back to Jaskier, smearing the blood into his skin. “He’s here.”

\- 

“I was wondering when you’d get my little note,” a voice calls from the darkness as Geralt steps into the lair. “Thought you weren’t going to show up after all this time. Thought maybe I’d misunderstood the _importance_ of the bard to you.” His voice drips with arrogance and it makes Geralt furious. “Apparently not.”

Geralt’s knuckles turn white as his fists wrap the handle of his sword much harder than necessary. “I know he’s here,” he spits, “I can smell him.” His expanding pupils land on the vampire, his back resting against the wall of the cave, as if this were a _casual meeting._

“Oh, he’s here. Would you like to see?” the vampire beckons to the rock arch beside him, faint light glowing from within. “He’s still alive,” the man continues, cocking his head to the side. “Sort of.”

Geralt moves towards the arch, slowly taking steps sideways with his sword raised at the vampire. He stares him down as to not drop his guard, but his focus falters as he moves through the arch and from the corner of his eye sees Jaskier. 

“Isn’t he beautiful?” the vampire says from somewhere behind him, and Geralt’s body feels numb, sword falling from his fingers as he rushes towards Jaskier.

Jaskier’s wrists are cuffed and bolted to the wall above him, clearly bruised from struggling against them; body hanging heavy underneath him and even though his feet can reach the ground, he’s barely holding himself up with them. He’s shirtless, shivering, and his body is covered. In scratches, bruises, bite marks, _blood_. His neck is smeared with red, some fresh and some dried; fang marks pierced into him from below his ear right down to his hip. His trouser buttons are unfastened and the material looks torn.

Geralt growls.

“To be honest, I haven’t minded all that much, waiting for you to find us,” the vampire smirks, eyes dragging up and down Jaskier’s body. “We’ve passed the time quite deliciously.” 

Geralt takes Jaskier’s chin gently in his hand and lifts his head. He’s barely conscious, eye blackened and lip split open, deep scratch along his cheekbone. Geralt murmurs his name and his eyes flutter briefly, gentle twitch of his mouth. Geralt wonders if he even knows he’s come for him.

“What have you done?” Geralt hisses and spins, eyes black from the potion, heart somehow slower but faster all at the same time, skin prickling. “What the fuck have you done to him?”

The vampire seems amused. “Oh, well I’m merely returning the favour, Witcher. Except you see, you took _several_ of my family away from me. And you, well, you have only _one_ person who you truly love. So I’ve decided to make up for the drastic difference in numbers by treating him to some.. _very_ special attention.”

Jaskier whines pathetically from behind Geralt and the sound tears through him, fists clenching by his sides and eyeing his sword that lays on the ground a few steps away. 

“Let him go,” Geralt says through gritted teeth, “Let him go and you can have me.”

The vampire laughs. “I don’t want _you_. I want you to _suffer_ , like I have. Killing you would be far too easy, and leave me very unsatisfied. But the bard.. well.. this has been satisfying in more ways than one.”

Geralt clenches his jaw and in a swift movement, throws himself sideways at his sword, snatching it from the floor, jumping backwards on his feet and pointing it towards the vampire. The vampire doesn’t flinch. Geralt launches forward at him, heaving swing of his sword aimed right at his head, and as the blade swings through, the vampire moves in the blink of an eye. Geralt snarls and swings at him in a frenzy, the vampire deflecting every time and then appearing in a flash right beside Geralt, twisting his wrist ruthlessly and wrenching the sword from his hand.

Geralt quickly kicks out and his boot lands square in the vampire’s chest, knocking him off balance, and Geralt gets cocky, following it with a flurried attack of his fists. A few of them land, but the closed distance between them makes it all too easy for the vampire to slash out long sharp nails and rip through Geralt’s shirt, right down to his chest. Geralt staggers back a little at the impact of it and the vampire sees his chance, kicking the Witcher in the kneecaps, buckling his legs and sending him toppling to the ground.

“I’m much stronger than you,” the vampire says, almost lazily, as Geralt crumples to the floor clutching his bleeding chest. “ _Much_ stronger,” he adds, kicking Geralt in the side and sending him to the ground in a heap.

“Perhaps I was wrong,” the vampire says, clicking his tongue, “perhaps killing you _would_ satisfy me. Although, I could chain you up like your boy here. Have myself a little party… but I doubt you’d taste as sweet.”

Geralt coughs blood and uses the opportunity of the vampire’s chatter to quickly draw a small Yrden sign in the dirt beneath his body. He breathes heavy and clutches at his chest, hearing the vampire move a few steps closer, before smashing his palm to the Sign and sending the magic trap pulsing through the air. The vampire makes a startled sound and Geralt scrambles away, watching the Vampire struggle with slow and heavy movements.

“Stronger, but not cleverer,” Geralt pants, circling the vampire to move closer to Jaskier. The vampire’s eyes widen as Geralt quickly traces Igni into the air and he thrusts his palm forward, cradling the rest of his body around Jaskier’s as fire explodes through the air, shielding him from the blast.

The vampire screams and he’s trapped on the spot as the fire engulfs him, burning his flesh and sending him to the ground in flames. 

Geralt wastes no time and with the strength that comes from the potion, he tears the cuffs on Jaskier’s wrists from the wall and picks him up - Jaskier wincing and crying out as the marks all over his body are pushed and pulled - and he sprints from the cave, leaving the vampire screaming and burning behind them.

-

He’d been asleep for almost two whole days, which made it somewhat easier for Geralt to tend to him; clean him, wipe away blood, rub gentle soothing cream onto his wounds, press healing herbs against his skin, bandage some of the deeper wounds.

He’s dressed Jaskier in soft clothes and covered him in thick fur blankets, placed him fireside, keeping his body warm even though it still shivers. “Jaskier,” Geralt mutters, hand brushing his cheek gently. “Jaskier, open your eyes. It’s me.”

Jaskier stirs with a few soft sounds and opens an eye weakly, swallowing against a dry throat. “You came,” he croaks, and it’s all he says before he falls back to sleep.


End file.
